You know what's always fun? Exams where you get to write about hanging! Or depression! (I boasted of my unfair advantage.) Pysch and forensics done and dusted, in other words.

Following on from iconmeme!Jon/Greta, I now have ... random-pictures-gakked-from-photobucket!Jon/Greta. I bet you're excited. Jon/Greta punched me in the face once, it was awesome! If you own these pics or you know the person that does, and you don't want them used in this way, lemme know and I will remove them toot sweet. Alternatively, if you are remotely interested in the continuation of this story, suggest a picture! So much easier than actual plotting, I can't tell you.

(findstuff22)

1.what do you think of tattoos on girls?

As soon as she text this, Greta realised she was a little too dependent on Jon's opinion. Of everything. It wasn't like Jon was a great sample of maledom, after all - he quoted Peter Pan, for crying out loud. (Greta maybe stalked We're So Blogging sometimes, in search of entries that didn't end with RR.) He looked on the world through rose-tinted glasses that were made of actual roses - the Disney kind without thorns and with perfect pink petals all year round.

depends, came the reply an hour later. Greta had spent five minutes waiting for it, she wasn't going to deny that, but she'd also got up from her desk and made a cup of coffee and turned on the TV with her guitar in her lap. Every so often she turned over her phone in case the screen had lit up or a message beeped without her noticing, but the point was - the point was, she wasn't waiting for it.

That was all the message said. Greta frowned. When she was utterly convinced that nothing more was forthcoming, she steeled herself and said, on what?

on who and where

Greta tried not to be disappointed by this reply. She'd only been considering a tattoo for, oh, three hours, but for some reason she'd expected complete and immediate approbation for the plan on Jon's part. The reason she didn't text Chris or one of her other friends was that they would have been cautious and slightly disapproving - Greta knew she wasn't a tattoo kind of girl, and they knew it too. The reason she didn't text someone else in FBR was that Pete, just as an example, would suggest getting an apple pie on her cheek. Pete was like that. Jon wasn't supposed to be like that.

Her phone rang and she flipped it open absently, still brooding. "Hello?"

"Hi, Greta."

Greta's stomach did approximately two and a half somersaults, while her heart tried to float away. "Jon?"

"S'me, baby." There was a laugh in Jon's voice and she'd forgotten the way he lisped slightly on his 'S's. "So, where are you getting this tattoo?"

"Oh." Greta's fingers found a loose thread in her t-shirt and started mindlessly pulling. "I don't know. I mean, I saw this awesome picture of a girl with wings on her back -"

"Ouch," said Jon.

"You don't like back tattoos?"

Jon laughed, a rattle of static down the line. He sounded like he was somewhere noisy - a restaurant, maybe, or just in Brendon's vicinity. "I love all tattoos, man, provided I don't have to get one. I mean ouch as in pain. Tattoos over bone are killer. At least, so I'm told. Ross got one on his shoulder blade last week and he hasn't stopped whining about it since."

Greta could hear a far-off voice yelling, "I resent that!" She smiled, even though her skin was jumping with nerves. Even though Jon couldn't see it.

There came the sound of a squabble and suddenly someone was panting harshly down the phone. Greta knew only one guy who thought it was okay to inadvertently have phone sex while waiting for the next thought to arrive.

"Brendon?"

"How did you know it was me?" Brendon sounded aggrieved. "Listen, don't get a back tattoo. Like, not on your lower back. That's called a slut tag -"

"Thank you for that," said Jon. "Greta, can you hang on two seconds?"

"Sure." Greta listened, pulling her shirt to ribbons, as the background noises receded till all she could hear was Jon breathing slightly fast into the phone.

"I hate when people call them that," said Jon. "If a girl wants a tattoo there she should get one, it doesn't mean anything different to having it on her arm or, like, her boob."

"I would so not tattoo my boob," said Greta.

Jon laughed. "I have to say I'm happy about that." Greta felt a little warm, her mind lagging behind the conversation as it marvelled that she was talking about her boobs with Jon. "So, where are you getting ink?"

"I don't know if I am," said Greta, "I was just thinking about it for a while."

"Well, you know the drill," said Jon, "there had better be pics. I - yeah, what?" Ryan shouted something unintelligible. "Listen, I gotta go. Making a living and all that. Send me some tattoo pics and I'll give them the JWalk seal of approval."

"Is that a requirement?" teased Greta.

"Oh, yes," said Jon solemnly. "Okay - bye -"

"Bye," whispered Greta into the dial tone.

(findstuff22)

2."Where the fuck is Jon?" shouted Ryan.

"Um." Brendon thought fast. "He went out for lunch."

Ryan's face went through a rainbow of reds. "What the fuck? We had lunch an hour ago."

"He wanted a smoothie?" Even before Brendon said it, the excuse sounded lame. Ryan dropped his head on his hands and groaned. It sounded heartfelt. It also sounded hot. Brendon's heart skipped a beat, and sped up to make up for it. He blamed it for the fact that he went over and started gently rubbing Ryan's tense shoulders.

"What is up with him these days?" demanded Ryan from between his fingers. "He's so ... so ... flaky!"

"Look, I promised him I wouldn't tell," said Brendon, low and rushed, "but he's gone to the craft store for glitter."

Ryan looked up slowly and with maximum drama. "What," he said, "the fucking fuck?"

Ryan was hot when he swore. Ryan was hot all the time, and it was really messing with Brendon's concentration. He was glad Jon was there to take the fall for being even more ditzy.

Ryan stomped outside and Brendon followed him, mostly because that was what Brendon did, and also because he wasn't going to bring down the force of Ryan's wrath by laying down tracks on his own. They found Jon sitting cross-legged on the ground with his tongue between his teeth and covered, head to toe, in glitter.

"Do I want to know?" asked Ryan, in this quiet, restrained little voice that made Brendon's teeth itch.

Jon beamed and held up a square of gold construction paper that he'd crudely cut into the shape of a butterfly. The butterfly was shedding glitter in all colours of the rainbow.

"It's an invitation," said Jon. "For Greta. I want her to come down for a few days."

"What, so you can be even more distracted than you are now?" said Ryan. His voice was so nasty Brendon nearly flinched, but it just went right over Jon's head.

"Where will I leave it to dry?" he wondered.

Ryan fell to his knees in the shower of glitter. He grabbed Jon's head between his two hands. "Please," he said, "please please please, I need you to focus. We were going so well until you decided on a career in tormenting Greta and arts and crafts. Please."

"Okay." Jon's voice came out funny because of how Ryan was squeezing his cheeks. "I just have to take this to the post office and I'm all yours."

Ryan wiped his forehead in relief, leaving a trail of purple glitter. It suited him. Brendon thought about just - pushing Ryan back against the wall, trapping Ryan's face between his palms, and cleaning off the glitter with his tongue. Slowly. It would probably taste disgusting.

They went back inside to wait for Spencer to return from the bathroom. Brendon dropped into the couch and Ryan sank down beside him, further and further until his head was in Brendon's lap. In Brendon's lap, and Brendon might have been hyperventilating a little.

"What would I do without you?" mumbled Ryan into the seam of Brendon's jeans.

"Um." Almost of its own accord, Brendon's hand settled on Ryan's hair. It was long and curly and just the tiniest bit greasy. "Sing a lot more? Get sore throats?"

Ryan's muffled laugh went straight up Brendon's legs. He groaned silently and hit his head on the back of the couch.

(musicbox985)

3."Seriously, where are we going?" Greta laughed, but her hands were a twisted knot in her lap. It was the first time she'd been alone - properly alone - with Jon since her arrival the night before. She was finding it intensely uncomfortable and intensely joyous at the same time, and that was never a good combination. Not to mention it made sitting still feel like dancing on pins.

"Nowhere soon, that's for sure," said Jon. He had just one hand on the wheel, resting lightly and tapping out the beat of the Death Cab song playing on the radio. They were stuck in the legendary LA traffic, a steaming smogtrail sprawling for miles. Jon glanced across, shooting her one quick glance. Greta smiled back, helpless.

She gazed out the window, at where the tarmac was bubbling at the sides. Despite the efficient aircon, her yellow dress was sticking to her back and dampness was building in all the angles of her body. With a sigh, she grabbed her hair and twisted it up and back off her neck, relishing the air on her skin before she dropped it again.

"It's not a date," said Jon, rolling his eyes at Greta as if to say duh. Greta bit her lip and looked out the window, feeling the bubble between her ribs shrink to a mere film.

Jon's conversation with Ryan and the rest of his clearly stoned bandmates - and Greta didn't mind pot, but not as a way of life - took up the rest of the drive. Greta was grateful not to have to make more awkward conversation with Jon; Jon who'd sent her the most adorable, the ugliest handmade invitation she'd seen since kindergarten begging her to come visit; Jon who'd made up a bed in Ryan's guestroom with linen sheets that were new - they still had the crisp fold-lines in them - and bought her a pink toothbrush; Jon, who thought taking her to a secret location with a picnic basket wasn't a date.

what am i doing she text to Darren.

if the answer isn't getting into jwalk's pants i dont know what to say to you

Greta cast an anxious glance at Jon, but he was concentrating on closing a gap of a whole three feet between his car and the one in front. She quickly deleted the message.

At long last, they reached Jon's closely guarded secret location. It was a large, bare, flat field, surrounded by scrubby, thirsty trees. Jon came alive again, very nearly bouncing as he ushered her out of the car.

"What? C'mon, you have to tell me soon," said Greta. Jon just smiled and pointed up.

A hot air balloon descended slowly and majestically from the sky. Greta swallowed; now was probably not the time to mention her fear of heights.

"I booked one for a ride," said Jon. "Awesome, huh?"

"Huh," said Greta in a tiny voice. Jon took her hand. Greta's stomach dropped away - vertigo had nothing on it.

"Do you trust me?" asked Jon.

"Uh, yeah?"

"No, it's a quote," said Jon. "From Aladdin? He asks Jasmine if she trusts him before he takes her on the magic carpet ride."

"Sorry, my knowledge of Disney movies is not as extensive as yours," said Greta. "I liked the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

"Blasphemy," said Jon. "Anyway, that's how Jasmine recognises him through his disguise. It's the line."

"Okay, Aladdin," said Greta. "I guess we're going flying, then?"

"I'll show you a whole new world," said Jon, still holding her hand, still thinking this wasn't a date.

(findstuff22)

4.The air grew cooler as the sun went down and, even though it was LA and LA never got truly cold, Greta shivered. Jon noticed immediately. He pushed the remains of their picnic off the blanket with his foot and tugged on Greta's arm.

"What? What are you doing?" Greta giggled. Jon couldn't have more than one glass of the wine because he was driving, so she'd drunk most of the bottle on her own. It rendered her more than a little tipsy.

"Get in here," growled Jon, pulling her into the crook of his arm. Greta was very willing to snuggle in closer. Jon carefully pulled up the edges of the blanket and wrapped it around them, teepee style.

"This is beautiful." Greta fingered the patchwork of the quilt. "My grandma used to make these. I always meant to learn from her, but I never got the chance. And then she died."

"It's my grandma's, actually," said Jon. "Maybe she could teach you. She makes a mint selling them on the internet."

Greta was not to be distracted. She pointed out one intersecting group of diamonds, each a different but complementary shade of red. "I mean, look at this craftmanship. Or craftwomanship, I guess. It's gorgeous."

"So are you," whispered Jon. He wrapped a lock of her hair around his knuckles and brought it to his lips. Greta couldn't help the giggle. She hid her face in his shoulder. "Your hair smells of roses."

"It's this legendary invention," said Greta, "we call it shampoo -" She broke off as Jon's other hand found her tickle spot, just under her arm. "No, no, truce!"

Jon relented immediately. He kept his hand on her waist. His hand was large and blunt and warm, just like it had been in the balloon, when both his arms were tight around her. Holding her in. Keeping her safe, so she could enjoy the view without throwing up all over it.

"Greta..." said Jon softly. His phone rang. "Jesus, what does Ross want now?"

"He's probably discovered that his hands, like, have fingernails," snorted Greta. A lot of Ryan’s earlier conversation had revolved around how intriguing ankles were.

Jon's fingertips were five circles of heat as he fumbled to answer his phone. "Ross, I swear to god - oh. Hey, Cassie."

Greta cleared her throat. They both moved at the same time, in opposite directions.

"No, I'm good." Jon's voice maybe sounded a little strained. It could have been Greta's imagination. "How's things in Chitown?"

I am so writing the most obvious, straightforward Ryan/Brendon EVAR, just because I can. Ryan will quite possibly have been hiding his feelings for Brendon all along and Spencer will have to tell him so!

I started reading this earlier, but then I realized I'd probably need it more after a few hours in my mother's company (I was right, I do) and I am quite distracted and snuggly now! Apart from the potential ending angst of course D:

I love that you don't write Brendon & Ryan having sekkrit!burning!hate by the way, it makes me very happy, because I don't see why that pairing always has to be so utterly dysfunctional. They deserve fluff too!

Jon made her a glittery butterfly invitation and sent it to her via actual post. I think that's possibly the most romantic part right there. ACTUAL POST.

Greta's stomach did approximately two and a half somersaults, while her heart tried to float away. "Jon?"

"S'me, baby." There was a laugh in Jon's voice and she'd forgotten the way he lisped slightly on his 'S's.

If you had just c&p'd that over and over, I probably still would have read it with heart eyes. ♥

I'm pretty sure there's a lot of fluff for Brendon/Ryan? Then again my fluff is always laden with UST - I count it as fluff if there's a happy ending. *says the girl who loves the rocks fall, everyone dies style of ending*

No there is, in their own way (lol yeah, angst-ridden comes naturally to them), there's just an abundance of them being awful to each other too. It's not surprising, but fluffy them always makes me smiley!

I think we have possibly created him from our minds anyway, there is no harm in giving him secret ideal boyfriend characteristics!

I happened to be on da seconds after leaving the fic and saw this and thought of Greta & random cat immediately. :3Then I got to where I was actually going and thought I'd have a look for you there, so here's a couple more from my beffie *eyeroll*pretties orglitzy prettiesandcoincidentally, from my birthday.I honestly have no idea what on earth it would have to do with the story, but I was there so; if Greta was a puppy she would clearly look like Honey.

In my head this is Dylan and random cat spying. So I therefore had to link you, useful or no ^^

Oh man, how did I miss the first part of this? This is so lovely, I love how it's not easy but it's still lovely, and also GLITTER. (I feel sorry for Greta. I have gotten a letter like that in the past and the stuff just does not wash off.)

Also, predictably any time you write Ryan/Brendon (oh my God, your latest email, I WILL GET BACK TO YOU ON THAT V. V. SOON) I get ridiculously flaily and over-invested and squirm around on my chair and say "BOYSSSSSSS" a lot. Um, just so you know.

This is lovely :-) Um, as long as I believe it's going to have a happy ending, but it has glitter and hot air balloons so I have faith. The snuggling in a rug scene was so warm and tingly, and then Cassie calling, ouch. Loved it.